I'm watching you

Wednesday, June 02, 2010

Other things that can be steam trains: Shopping carts, strollers, laundry baskets

One
thing I DO love about three-year-olds are their imaginations. Asher
doesn't even have a particularly zealous one but I could listen to
him give train play-by-plays while he lies on his belly on the floor
all afternoon. I find it particularly interesting that most of the
plots and dialogues he comes up with are gleaned from books we've
read and television shows we've watched – I don't know if that's
pretty standard for his age and gender, or whether he's just destined
for the left-brain fast track and lacks a strong creative side. My
niece, who is just a few months younger than Asher, is capable of
coming up with all kinds of bizarre stuff (lies, really) and I am
frequently amazed by the world of difference between how their little
weensy brains work. I don't think Asher could come up with something
other than Actual Reality for all the Thomas trains in the world.

What
I really find hilarious is what he chooses to imagine. Like,
we'll be driving in the car, right? And he'll loudly announce THIS
CAR IS A STEAM TRAIN and then tell me all about how the steam train
is running out of coal! and he needs to shovel more coal in to make
more steam! and could I roll the window down for him so he could
shovel in the coal and oh! look out there's a cow on the tracks and
Mama, could you blow the whistle so the cow will move?

I'm
all, Waitwaitwait, why aren't YOU blowing the whistle? And he gets
all irritated with me, and says, Mama, YOU are the one driving the
train. And I'm all, SERIOUSLY? So you can imagine ALLLLLLLL that
other stuff – cows on the tracks and shoveling coal into the
firebox and the very minor thing about how this Honda CR-V is
actually a STEAM TRAIN – but you can't imagine that YOU'RE the
driver and not me? So I “blow the whistle” by which I mean I make
a wooo! wooo! noise with my mouth and he gets frustrated with me and
says, NO THAT'S NOT RIGHT, it's like this, wooo wooo wooooooooooo and
I swear, you guys, it is all I can do not to bang my head on the
steering wheel WHILE THE CAR IS MOVING because really? You'd rather
correct my woo-ing than do it YOURSELF to PERFECTION? Then he
asks me to ring the bell. Occasionally he yells at me to STOP THE
TRAAAAAAAIN!!!!! and the first 15 times I would go into this lengthy
explanation about how we can't stop because we're on a road and other
cars – I mean, steam trains – could hit us and
blah-de-blah blah but I stopped doing that and now I just say SORRY,
but the POLICE will get us if I do that, so why don't you look out
the window for horses or deer?

He
does not WANT to look out the window for horses or deer, just so you
know. Either we play Steam Train or we pout.

I
really don't enjoy pretending to be the driver of a steam train,
frankly, and today I was concentrating so hard on getting my train
whistle right the first time that I almost DROVE INTO ANOTHER CAR.
That's exactly the kind of police report that makes it into the
media: “Woman pretending to blow a train whistle at fault for
collision.” GREAT.

Yesterday
he talked about trains so much and for so long that I actually begged
him to stop talking. And I remembered, back when Asher was turning
two and still not putting two words together, how I promised I would
never say something like that because I had been waiting for him to
talk for SO LONG (he was easily two-and-a-half years old before he
said his first sentence) but I have to take back that promise because
now he talks CONSTANTLY and it is driving me bonkers insane. I
suppose I wouldn't mind so much if we talked about anything other
than machinery that stopped being relevant back in the 1800s but
around here it is All Trains, All The Time, except for a few pockets
of precious, precious time where we talk about Team Umizoomi.

Dave
and I went out last night and we were talking about how much we were
looking forward to being to go out to dinner as a family in the
future, when our kids might actually stay in their chairs and eat the
food we put in front of them and we can all have productive
conversations, like the kind that don't revolve around whether Percy
and Thomas need a bath after getting stuck in the mud, but maybe
about what they did in class that day or learned in Sunday school.
Doesn't that sound nice? I thought it did too, and for a few quiet
moments I had this tiny little perfect-family fantasy, and then I
remembered the Actual Reality of My Youth, which was that neither my
brother or I or anyone we actually knew ever WANTED to talk to their
parents about school or their friends or anything else once they hit
nine years old. “Oh, our kids will be different,” said Dave.

(Yeah,
I had a good laugh over that one, too.)

Hey,
in ultra-squeeable-super-exciting news, we are hosting The Blathering
again this year, this time in Chicago, from November 5th through the
7th! For those of you who don't know what the heck I'm talking about,
the brief version is that last year a bunch of us who, for the most
part, only knew each other through blogs and comments, decided we
really didn't care to attend a blogging conference to learn monetize
our websites or market ourselves more effectively, we just wanted to
hang out, talk and shop. So nearly 20 of us from all over the country
gathered in Sacramento, California for a fantastic weekend, and it was SO RIDICULOUSLY fantastic that we're doing it again this year. Things are a little
different this time around (there will be a registration deadline and
fee so that we can plan a couple of activities more effectively), but the official website will have all the details. And you can always ALWAYS email me or anotherof theorganizers with questions (although try not to bombard Elizabeth, since she's having a baby in like, three hours or something). We would love to have you join
us!

Comments

My son was a late talker. The only negative comment on his progress reports, quarter after quarter, is his quantity of talking, and how this negatively impacts listening skills. I love the look on each teacher's face when I say, "He was a very late talker." My daughter is a late talker, too. She's 2 1/2... two years from now I may be praying to lose my hearing.

Oh how fondly I remember the "Thomas" days!! My oldest used to answer, "Thomas" when asked his name (hint: it's not Thomas!!). We had to announce any timne we crossed a train track and say hello to every type of car that was being pulled by any train we saw on the tracks. He also acted out scenes from the DVDs constantly and recited along with each scene when watching it too. We spent GAJILLIONS of dollars on the trains and playsets and clothes and sheets and everything that had a train on it and were happy when we found out #2 was a boy so we could at least pass all the train stuff along. Then by the time #2 was the age for Thomas & Friends, #1 had moved on to Spiderman and Batman and #2 never even looked at Thomas, Henry, Gordon or Percy...sigh!

So instead of our car being a steam train, we just listen to barking pretty much where ever we go. And if we ask VIOLET to stop barking, she will kindly inform us that, "That's not me, Mommy. That's T-Bone!" And then you have to ask T-BONE to stop barking. Which results in T-Bone whimpering.

All the games we play center on the stuffed puppies. They have fleas! We have to get rid of their fleas, Mommy! We need to give them all check-ups!

ALL. DAY. LONG. with the puppy check-ups.

Basically, I feel your pain.

That being said, THE BLATHERING! WHEEE! A whole weekend with no steam trains OR puppies. What ever shall we do?

OH MY GOD YES. We have to hear about how cars need gas or cash ALL DAY LONG. The talking never ever ever ends and he didn't talk at all for so long, and now I have to say "Eli! I need five minutes! Please be quiet!" Although nothing nothing nothing nothing is worse than the endless "whys". OH MY LORD. Get ready.

I had to ask Christopher to stop talking to me the other day too, and I felt SO AWFUL doing it. But it was either that or rip my ears off, and I figured the simple request would be far less traumatizing to him in the long run.

I SO want to go to the blathering, but again this year, not in the cards. Am crying over here. Please, PLEASE consider Denver for next year? I would offer my firstborn, but I don't think anyone wants more than their own kids anyway.

Um can I bring my non-stop talking, Team Umizoomi obsessed 3 year old over to keep Asher company? Maybe they can talk each other out. He just got his first train set two weeks ago and it's crazy simple but GOD FORBID you accidentally kick a piece and witness the unholy fury.

I never get tired reading your blogs..you've shared your special moments through this, and in return you have inspired us that much..I see how happy you are though there are times that we also need to bend down and move slowly...thanks for your great stories and pieces of thoughts